Chapter 159: One Hundred and Sixty-Six: A Strange New Blessing (Happy Labor Day!)

One Hundred and Sixty-Six: A Strange New Blessing (Happy Labor Day!)

No way—gentlemen even guard against craftsmen. One Hundred and Sixty-Six: A Strange New Blessing. Rain dripped from the green-tiled eaves.

Around the elegant house, a curtain of rain seemed hung.

Looking outward from within, the entire world was veiled in misty haze.

An umbrella, refolded, leaned against the wall beside the door.

Inside the open doorway, two young men of distinct demeanors stood by the table.

One wrote; the other ground ink and passed the brush.

"Brother Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan, did you hear this from Miss Chenjun Xie? Actually, my younger sister might not be quite… never mind. But your birthday gift is truly refined—it's still a heartfelt gesture…"

Su Fu glanced at Magistrate Ouyang Rong, who sat silently writing, hesitated, swallowed his words, then praised him and asked curiously:

"Returning Home—why not return when the fields lie fallow? … Is this the title? 'Returning Home'? How interesting—it carries the spirit of a reclusive scholar…"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong lowered his gaze, expression calm, saying nothing.

Yet his lips moved slightly, as if silently reciting something.

His right hand gripped the brush like a claw; his left hand held the wide sleeve of his right arm, shielding the still-wet ink from smudging the paper.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong was quietly reconstructing the "Returning Home" essay from distant, hazy memories in his mind.

Fortunately, the dead Chinese literature was different from the dead higher mathematics.

The former was a rhythmic chant; recalling it, the words flowed easily.

The latter was a death sentence—he remembered only the name, like the Squeeze Theorem or something, laughable, surely not literal, but what it was actually used for, he had no idea.

Everything he'd learned before had been cast to the ends of the earth; just thinking about it gave him a headache.

Yet, coming to this world, Magistrate Ouyang Rong had come to realize deeply: the dynasty, figures, and cultural customs here were strikingly similar yet subtly off from the historical Tang Dynasty of his past life.

Some famous events and historical developments existed in both worlds.

For instance, the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the Five Great Clans, the Guanlong aristocracy.

Likewise, the Eastern Jin scholar Tao Li Qian, after serving as county magistrate for eighty-one days and refusing to bow for five pecks of rice, had indeed written an essay titled "Returning Home."

But some things differed.

For example, the First Emperor of a thousand years ago, Emperor Zheng, had indeed sought immortality in his later years.

Yet, once, his little sister had carelessly let slip that the First Emperor had apparently succeeded in obtaining "the elixir of immortality"—only it wasn't any immortal mushroom or spirit herb, but the name of the sword that assassinated him.

A bit of a dark joke.

But it revealed that the root of divergence between this world and his past lay in the transcendent powers of the pre-Qin Qi-refiners.

These powers often intervened and altered key historical trajectories.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong had, in recent days, gained some firsthand experience of these transcendent abilities.

Aside from his little sister's absurd combat skills, there was also the bronze mask of the Lady Yuzhi Immortal, capable of substituting one person for another.

But the Lady Yuzhi Immortal's fate remained unknown; she was kept under his little sister's custody. When he'd asked her last time, his little sister said she needed to study it further…

So, whether the "Returning Home" essay written by Tao Li Qian in his past world was the same as this world's, Magistrate Ouyang Rong wasn't certain.

But hadn't Master Venerable Shan Dao told him that the Donglin Temple had lost its lone surviving copy?

Then, as the one who had accidentally memorized the original text and wandered into this world, whatever Magistrate Ouyang Rong wrote became the true version.

Final interpretation rested with him; even if he'd miswritten a character, no one would correct or cross it out.

As Magistrate Ouyang Rong pondered, the essay was nearly complete—when suddenly, as he paused to dip his brush, his expression froze, his hand halting above the inkstone.

"Clouds drift out of the mountain peaks without intent; birds, weary from flight, know to return… Hmm, Brother Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan, what's wrong?"

Su Fu, who had been quietly reading with a curious expression, noticed his friend's sudden change and turned to ask in surprise.

"N-nothing."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong shook his head, glanced around the hall, then toward the inner chamber, and finally frowned at the nearly finished essay.

Then he composed himself and explained:

"I just remembered an urgent matter… I can't stay long. I must take my leave."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong suppressed the faint, restless trembling of the ancient bell within the cloud-bound tower in his mind.

He quickly finished writing "Returning Home," didn't check it, blew on the still-wet ink, and handed it casually to Su Fu.

"Consider it a small gift—Big Brother, please pass it along…"

Su Fu gently took the rice paper and nodded:

"Alright, though it looks a bit plain—I'll frame it and pair it with a landscape painting, that'll make it more elegant and refined. Other guests have sent calligraphy too, Brother Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan needn't…"

Su Fu's words cut off as he looked up—Magistrate Ouyang Rong was gone.

Outside the door, Magistrate Ouyang Rong had already walked off without looking back, umbrella in hand, waving his hand over his shoulder.

"Something's come up—I'm off first."

Su Fu blinked, turned to the basket of grapes on the table, picked it up, and rushed outside—but Magistrate Ouyang Rong had vanished into the distance.

"Strange. Didn't Brother Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan say he was going to deliver grapes to Miss Chenjun Xie? Then why did he leave them behind…"

Su Fu muttered in disbelief.

After gazing a while longer, he shook his head and turned back inside to attend to his teacher.

Su Fu carried the basket of grapes to the bedside thick with herbal scent and smiled at Yuan Xiangshan:

"Teacher, this is Brother Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's token of respect."

Yuan Xiangshan didn't open his eyes, only nodded slightly.

Su Fu exhaled softly in relief.

Hua Xuanji after drinking his medicine, Yuan Xiangshan seemed weary. Su Fu rubbed his tired, stiff face and temporarily left the room to rest.

After Su Su Dalang departed, Yuan Xiangshan lay still for a while, then at one moment opened his eyes, reached out tremblingly toward the round-faced page waiting nearby, and waved slightly.

The round-faced page stepped forward. "Master, what do you need?"

Yuan Xiangshan's pale lips pressed together. His white-haired head, resting on the pillow, turned slightly inward, avoiding the page's gaze, and whispered:

"Go to Big Brother's desk and bring me the essay titled 'On Teachers.'"

"Yes, Master."

The page blinked, then turned and left the bedside.

Yuan Xiangshan opened his eyes, gazing upward at the canopy. After a moment, he sighed softly.

No one knew what he was thinking.

…

Magistrate Ouyang Rong changed his plan. Instead of going to his little sister, he turned back under his umbrella to Meilu Garden.

As soon as he entered the courtyard, he came face-to-face with Ye Ye Weilai.

She had initially turned away upon seeing him, but halfway through the motion, she turned back.

"Master, what are you doing? Why are you walking so fast?"

Ye Ye Weilai's small hands were tucked into her sleeves as she hurried after him, asking first.

"Nothing. I'm going back to the study… Wait."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong snapped back to himself, his face stern:

"Didn't I tell you to copy calligraphy in the study? What are you doing now? Thinking I wouldn't return, you're wandering around? Have you finished all the characters you were punished to write?"

"Almost done, almost done, really almost done."

Ye Ye Weilai's gray-blue eyes flickered away. She tightened her sleeves, lowered her head, and traced circles on the floor with the toe of her embroidered shoes:

"I got a headache from writing, so I came out for a walk. I'll go back and continue soon."

This was the aftermath of Ye Ye Weilai's previous act of disobedience—turning back halfway to Meilu Garden against Magistrate Ouyang Rong's orders.

Aside from the usual punishment for a disobedient maid.

Ye Ye Weilai had also been forced to sign several "unequal treaties."

Copying characters and practicing calligraphy was one of them.

Ye Ye Weilai had originally spoken the Zhou court dialect haltingly, let alone read or write.

But honestly, she didn't need literacy at all—as a personal maid, beauty and charm were enough.

But she'd drawn an unusual master—Magistrate Ouyang Rong held even his maid to unusually high standards.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong had his reasons for teaching her these things.

But Ye Ye Weilai was indeed clever, quick-witted, and learned rapidly—not inferior to any promising student in a scholarly academy. This made Magistrate Ouyang Rong feel even more regretful.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong had always believed that, in either past or present life, those who excelled at learning fell into two categories.

One: those who studied diligently and cultivated discipline.

Two: those with innate talent.

Ye Ye Weilai, with her nimble little mind, grasping things instantly, clearly belonged to the latter.

Thus, seeing her now, seemingly skipping study to play, Magistrate Ouyang Rong couldn't help but frown slightly.

Ye Ye Weilai, with her sharp eyes, noticed his expression and immediately grabbed his sleeve:

"Master, I'll go back and write right away. The characters 'yan' and 'wan' you asked about last morning—I studied the Shuowen Jiezi during my punishment and finally understood their meanings. I'll go back and explain them in detail to you. Will you check if I'm right, please?"

Seeing the pleading expression and soft tone on the white-haired maid's face, Magistrate Ouyang Rong's anger faded. He sighed, and gently patted her obedient little head.

He nodded: "No need. If reading gives you a headache, stroll around the garden, clear your mind… I'm going back to the study. Don't let anyone disturb me."

"Yes, Master."

Ye Ye Weilai nodded obediently, stood with sleeves tucked, watching Magistrate Ouyang Rong's figure vanish behind the low wall of the corridor.

She exhaled slowly, and quietly withdrew her hands from her sleeves.

Only a slender strand of green silk was coiled around the tip of his right index finger.

Ye Ye Weilai pinched it between two fingers, straightening the strand, and held it before her eyes, studying it under the dim yellow glow of the corridor lanterns.

The long hair was jet black, with a faint tinge of brown.

"I didn't slack off… but whose is this anyway… who sneaked close to Master without telling him… does he know… or is he just not telling me?"

Ye Ye Weilai muttered softly.

She hadn't slipped out to wander idly—she was searching for the owner of this unfamiliar strand of hair.

For the past two days, she had checked every maid in Meilu Garden, yet found nothing. Now, Saving Aqing and the others had been ruled out; the investigation seemed stuck in a dead end…

And to find the owner based solely on one strand of hair was indeed too difficult.

In truth, Ye Ye Weilai wasn't quite sure why she cared so much about this strand—she had never felt jealousy or rivalry toward Miss Chenjun Xie or other women drawing close to Master.

Perhaps this unfamiliar strand had simply clung to him accidentally from outside, with no complicated story behind it.

Yet Ye Ye Weilai couldn't let it go.

Over these two days, she had silently wound the strange green strand around her index finger inside her sleeve countless times…

Perhaps it was a woman's instinct—like a lioness sensing her territory might be invaded.

Ye Ye Weilai always felt this strand's origin was not simple.

The circumstances behind it… might not be simple either.

…

Magistrate Ouyang Rong knew nothing of his maid's sharp sixth sense or her wild imaginings.

The moment he returned to his study, he locked the door behind him.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong glanced at the desk, where Ye Ye Weilai's handwriting—still childish yet beginning to show sharpness—lay scattered, then leaned back in his high-backed chair.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sank into deep focus. Hua Xuanji, he felt his consciousness like a desert traveler whose leg had sunk into quicksand, slowly sinking into the lake of his heart.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong soared again to the radiant clouds, stepping into the ancient small tower whose door opened automatically.

Same as always.

A smooth, round wooden fish.

A row of blue-gold characters: 【Merit: 14,288】

And a bronze ancient bell.

But now, suspended in the center of the empty white-mist space, the Blessing Bell was trembling—its body shaking as it hadn't in a long time.

Thick mist poured out from it continuously.

This time, Magistrate Ouyang Rong flew straight to the Blessing Bell, extended his right hand, and the instant his fingertip touched the bell's surface, a strange message slipped into his heart like an eel.

"Another three thousand merit points… Is this new blessing still about saving my life?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong frowned slightly, murmuring to himself.

The last blessing he exchanged for three thousand merit points at Yunshui Pavilion, he still hadn't fully confirmed—yet from past experiences, he vaguely suspected it had activated without his knowledge.

And it was very likely connected to the swordsman who had lain in wait at the Donglin Temple's Beitian Relief Center on the ribbon-cutting day but never struck… the blessing had seemingly saved his life.

"I wonder why that assassin never moved."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong shook his head gently, his gaze returning to the trembling bronze bell before him.

Now, another blessing worth three thousand merit points.

"What's this one… hmm, what's this?"

As he leaned closer this time, Magistrate Ouyang Rong suddenly noticed that within the torrent of purple mist pouring from the Blessing Bell, other things—or rather, other colors—were mixed in.

The vast purple mist carried faint traces of peach-pink haze within it.

Seeing this, Magistrate Ouyang Rong reached out and gently parted the purple current.

The strange sight became even clearer:

Like a waterfall hanging upside-down in midair, peach petals drifted downward with the flow.

It seemed he had discovered something unlike before.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's expression turned curious; he tilted his head to study it.

"Is this new? Or has it always been here, just masked by the overwhelming purple?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong nodded—this purple and the faint peach-pink did stand out sharply together.

"But what use is this? Does it signify a distinction? Are these different types of blessings?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong lowered his head, propped his chin on his thumb, and muttered for a long while.

Unfortunately, he hadn't noticed this oddity before, so he had no accumulated experience or basis for judgment.

Hua Xuanji, Magistrate Ouyang Rong gave up, exhaling deeply.

Whether to exchange it or not…

He turned his head to glance at the blue-gold characters floating in the air.

Then he closed his eyes.

His inner strings seemed to shift.

"My life matters more… three thousand merit points is still acceptable—haven't dropped below ten thousand."

As Magistrate Ouyang Rong murmured, the blue-gold characters above the wooden fish dissolved into a glowing, hazy carp that shot straight toward the restless bell, now emitting dual-colored mist.

DONG—!

Accompanied by the familiar, resonant toll of a great bell.

The purple mist, streaked with peach-pink, exploded outward, filling the entire tower's interior for a fleeting instant.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong blinked—closed his eyes, then opened them—and the previous phenomena had vanished without a trace.

The bronze bell stood motionless.

The blue-gold light cluster bounced back to its original position, restored to its initial form:

【Merit: 11,288】

Magistrate Ouyang Rong glanced over briefly.

Standing in the now-silent tower, he paused, then turned to leave—his face still thoughtful:

"And how exactly was this new blessing triggered…?"

Happy May Day! Cough, cough—wait, isn't it also double vote day at the start of the month?